


Blood and Milk

by Notsalony



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Asshole!Scott, Blood, Body Modification, Caught, Character Death, Dead!Greenberg, Dead!Noah, Exhibitionism, Fae!Finstock, Fighting, Filmed, Filmed Without Permission, Grief, Hand Jobs, Kanima Pack, Kanima!Isaac, Lactation, M/M, Magic!Stiles, Major character death - Freeform, Master Tech, Masturbation, Milking, Multi, Nudity, Other, Pain, Pornography, Public Nudity, Road Head, Starvation, Suffering, Threesome, Violence, Voyeurism, body manipulation, breast feeding, kanima!Jackson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2019-07-20 11:53:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16136684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notsalony/pseuds/Notsalony
Summary: Seeing his father die breaks something inside Stiles leaving him a shattered shell that is slowly dying and only going through the motions of living. Maybe it was his magic awakening, maybe it was watching Scott kill his dad.  Maybe it was a million things.  But now Stiles’ work is upside down and turned inside out.  How will he ever find his footing in this mixed up world?





	1. Blood of the Innocent

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Mischief Takes Control](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11074077) by [ract46](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ract46/pseuds/ract46). 



> You can thank Commissioner #4 for this. If you haven’t read Mischief Takes Control, please do, all Master Tech stories owe their existence to that story. Ract46 will forever get the love from me.

“STILES!” The sound rung in his ears as an arrow was shot at him.  His arms flying up to shield his face without thinking and a wall of light a couple inches thick appears between him and the arrow casting the room in a pale aquamarine light as the arrow dissolved.  He’d been feeling weird for weeks now, and now here he was with a wall of light that had just saved his life.  The blood was rushing into his ears and he was starting to get light headed as a second arrow hit the shield and dissolved.  The wall began to ripple as if something was wrong with it.  The hunter notched an iron arrow with runes etched into it and fired right at Stiles’ face.   
  
_SHIT!_   Stiles tried to put the shield up and block it but it managed to go half way through his shield sitting an inch from his nose as he panicked, the shield breaking and falling like snow in front of him, the arrow landing with a clatter on the floor before Stiles fell to his knees.  _Fuck…_   Everything in him seemed drained as he looked up at the next notched bolt and knew it was going to go through his skull in a moment.   
  
_Just let dad be okay…_ Stiles prayed silently before a gun shot went off, causing both him and the hunter to look at the smoking hole in the wall before turning to see the Sheriff standing in the kitchen doorway with his gun drawn.   
  
“Get the fuck away from my son.”   
  
“He’s a fucking monster, he’s one of _them_!” The guy raised his hand again and pointed his crossbow at Stiles’ head.  “I have to do this… _before…_ ”   
  
“Before what?  Before he has a chance to graduate high school?” Noah raised his hand with the gun and pointed it at the hunter’s head.   
  
“YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND, YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT HE…”   
  
“I don’t know what?  I don’t know what my son is?  He’s my son.  It doesn’t matter if he has magic or farts pixie dust.  He’s my son, so you’re going to get the fuck out of my house before I put a hole through your fucking skull.”   
  
“YOU STUPID FUCKING HUMAN.” The hunter squeezed the trigger, having drawn his hand around to loosely aim at Noah to scare him away, the bolt going close enough to slice open his sleeve as it graced his shoulder.   
  
“OW!” Noah dropped back but shot in the direction of the hunter, causing him to scurry away from Stiles who was flat on the floor.   
  
Rule one, if the gun is out, you’re not in front of it.  Rule two, if the gun is fired, you stay flat on the floor till the gun is not firing anymore.  Rule three, don’t mouth off while the gun is out so no one is paying attention to you.   
  
These simple rules had been drilled into Stiles’ head for years now.  His dad’s way of ensuring that if the worst happened like it was now, and Stiles was in the middle of a shootout that he was likely going to walk out of it alive.  He suddenly wondered if they’d have had a whole other talk if his dad had known there was a chance that he’d have come out of puberty with powers.   
  
Powers he didn’t understand and had no fucking clue how he’d turned them on… He started waving his hands trying to do it again.  Was it instinct?  He’d wanted to protect himself and he’d made a shield… Maybe that’d be enough…   
  
_Enough to what?  Hold my own against a hunter with crossbow bolts that go through magic shields like they’re a plywood wall?_   Stiles shook himself.  He wasn’t a trained magic user.  He had no clue what the hell he was even doing.  He bit his lip and listened to the bullets flying and the arrows being launched along with the bolts.  One last bullet went through the wall and whizzed just over Stiles’ head before he heard two bodies hit the ground.   
  
_Shit._   Stiles scrambled low.  He saw movement, a glimpse of red in the eyes.  _Scott?_   Stiles moved slowly and looked around the corner.  He watched as Scott stopped by his dad first and then went to sniff the hunter.  Stiles looked down the length of his father to the hunter who was bleeding a lot for someone who wasn’t moving… _oh_.  Stiles let it dawn on him that his dad had killed the guy who’d been trying to kill him tonight.  He sighed and sat back, catching his breath.   
  
_Fuck, I’m going to have to ask Deaton for something to protect myself if this is going to be happening a lot._   Stiles sighed as he sat there and tried to keep calm.  _Shit…_   He looked at the holes in the walls.  _Our insurance is going to go fucking sky high._   He sighed heavily before he vaguely heard Scott whispering.  He frowned and turned back around the corner and looked at where Scott was crouched beside his dad, holding his hand.   
  
He was talking low.  And fast…  What the fuck was going on?   
  
“Scott…” Scott looked up and a look of naked fear on his face.  But he looked back down, Stiles could just barely make out the black veins in his arms as he held onto his dad.  The fuck was going on.   
  
“Scott…” Stiles started to stand.   
  
“do. it.” Stiles heard his father say before Scott morphed his hand, releasing his claws and sliced Noah’s throat open, tearing it out clear to the spine and taking the neck clear out.  For a moment Stiles didn’t understand what he was looking at.  There was his dad… his head and his body… and this dark almost black red space where his neck had been.  What did that mean?  Didn’t that mean…   
  
Why’s it smell like copper…. Like… no… no it can’t…it can’t mean… but that smells like… no.  NO.  Stiles felt some part of him trying to hold his mind back as he stepped closer and Scott moved too fast.  Too fast for werewolf speed, too fast for human speed.  He wasn’t sure how Scott got to him so fast.  Scott was saying something, trying to keep him from walking forwards.  Why was he trying to stop him?   
  
He was shaking and he was fighting and trying hard to keep Stiles from moving.  Why was he trying to stop him?   
  
Hands.  Hands were on his face trying to make him look at Scott and not at his dad.  His dad who wasn’t moving.  Why wasn’t his dad moving?  Why wasn’t… Don’t look.  He looked at Scott.  What was wrong?  Scott was talking … his lips were moving but nothing was coming out.  There wasn’t any sound.  Why wasn’t there sound?  Why couldn’t he hear Scott?  What was wrong with him… what was wrong… what was…   
  
Scott’s hand is wet.  Why is Scott’s hand wet?  The realization of the red wet, coppery smelling hand on the side of his face as Scott’s lips kept moving and he couldn’t hear a word of it over the near deafening sound that seemed to be holding everything outside of his mind.  He was stuck in the middle of the den of noise that seemed to keep everything else at bay just now.   
  
Scott’s hand is covered in blood.  Stiles’ mind supplied that slowly, as if it had to filter through some part of him that was trying not to know that.   
  
Blood?   
  
Where did he get blood on his hand?  People didn’t just have blood on their hands for no reason.  That’d be silly.  How would you eat without tasting the blood?  Eat… teeth.  Derek always used to threatened to tear out his throat with his teeth… throat…   
  
Why was throats important.  He had one.  Didn’t everyone?  Didn’t… Stiles glanced at his dad and the mass of red that had been his dad’s neck.   
  
Why was his dad’s neck gone and red?  Why…  His mind unclenched and let him see this for what it was.  Noah Stilinski, father, widower, sheriff… was laying in a pool of his own blood in the middle of his down stairs hallway.  His neck torn out by werewolf claws.  Scott’s werewolf claws.   
  
Scott tore out his dad’s neck.  Scott killed his dad.  Scott killed his dad.  Scott KILLED HIS DAD.   
  
The smell of copper and of raw meat hit Stiles’ nose and his hands tightened on Scott’s arms, his knuckles white from the force of holding onto Scott.   
  
“Scott.” Stiles’ voice was low and his eyes were getting unfocused as he looked Scott in the eyes, his attention zoning in on Scott.   
  
“Stiles?” Scott’s voice finally cut through the den of noise around him.   
  
“You killed my dad.”   
  
“Stiles I…”   
  
“You killed my dad.”   
  
“I know but…”   
  
“You killed my dad… why did you kill my dad?”   
  
“Stiles I…”   
  
“YOU KILLED MY DAD!” Stiles screamed and shoved Scott away, his magic flaring up and throwing Scott into the wall with a loud crack and a thud, leaving a jagged Scott shaped dent in the wall.   
  
“Stiles…” Scott groaned as he tried to stand, and slipped in Noah’s blood.  Making Stiles look at the blood and where it was soaking into Scott’s jeans.  Scott was touching his dad’s blood.  He was touching any part of his dad… after he killed him… who did that… why would he think that was okay?  Why would he…”   
  
“GET OUT!” Stiles screamed as another burst of magic crushed Scott into the floor for a moment.   
  
“Stile si…”   
  
“GET OUT!” A blast of solid light hit Scott square in the chest and sent him flipping over his side through the front door and leaving him to crumple on the porch and Stiles fell to his knees.  He was panting as he watched blood move down the floor towards him.   
  
His jeans were turning red as they soaked up his dad’s blood.  Stiles felt the world growing white as he crawled through his dad’s blood and took his dad in his arms.  _FUCK.  FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK._   Stiles’ head was being filled with the white noise of his own mind screaming at him as he tried to make the magic come to him.  Tried to pour power into making his dad not be dead.  Trying to pour life back into a corpse.  Something was breaking inside him as he tried to do this as he held onto the corpse.  Nothing else mattered, NOTHING.   
  
Stiles felt himself growing cold as he poured more and more into it.  He could almost see his father’s soul on the other side of a great divide.  He was reaching across it when he felt hands on his shoulders.   
  
“STOP.” A very firm voice spoke in that in between space.  Someone was standing between him and what he wanted.  He couldn’t allow that.  Stiles tried to push them away, not caring how much power he put into it, so long as they’d let him do this.   
  
Voices… whispers.  People were here.  He didn’t care.   
  
Almost there… almost….   
  
_I’m almost there… I’m almost… I’m…_   
  
Stiles was freezing and suddenly there was something between him and that place where his father was waiting.   
  
“Stiles, you have to stop now.” Deaton.  That was Deaton’s voice.  Stiles looked at him, confused as to what he was doing there, slowly he realized Isaac and Scott were there with Derek as well.  “Are you with us Stiles?” Deaton asked slowly.   
  
_Go away._   Stiles spoke from his mind.   
  
“I’m not sure how long we can hold him.” Danny’s voice was somewhere behind him.  When had Danny got here?   
  
“I’ve never seen anyone with this kind of magic.” Lydia spoke and Stiles felt her here more than knew she was here.  Her and Danny’s magic was mixing with one another, weaving in and out of each other as they worked something big.  Stiles could feel the shape of it.  Sort of.  It was this nameless, shapeless thing he felt at the edge of him.   
  
“If you’re going to save him, do it now.” Danny shouted.  It was so quiet, why would he need to shout?  Stiles turned to look at him and the whole room shifted.  He wasn’t standing in the light with his dad anymore.  He was in that hallway, in the hallway over his dead father’s corpse… and the magic was breaking, falling apart.  He’d only looked away for a second… only a…why was he so cold?  The world seemed to hollow out around him as he passed out.   
  


***

  
  
Coming to hurt.  It fucking hurt so bad.  But as Stiles lay there he realized he was in a private ICU, hooked up to all sorts of machines.   
  
_Great… how much of that actually happened?_   Stiles groggily looked around the hospital room and he slowly tried to sit up only to collapse fully into the bed.  _What the hell?_   He looked around again and tried to speak.  Nothing came out.  He was frowning and confused till Melissa walked in.   
  
“Oh thank god, you’re awake.  How do you feel?” Stiles pointed to his mouth and tried to talk but nothing came out.  “Shit.” Melissa moved in and started checking him over, keeping a close eye on his face as she asked questioned, watching him nod or shake his head.  Eventually she stood back and frowned.   
  
_You clearly don’t know why I can’t speak either._   Stiles mentally sighed.   
  
“My best guess for why you can’t talk is a state of shock.” Stiles arched a brow.  “Stiles you do remember why you’re here right?” Flashes of his father’s corpse, Scott’s bloody hand and Stiles quickly turned over on his side and threw up on the floor, violently being ill before he finally panted and sat back.   
  
_Not a dream then._   
  
“I’m sorry.” Melissa wiped his mouth and offered him a mint.  He grudgingly took it.  “I’m not sure how soon you can go home..” Her voice got distant.  “Jordan’s handling everything.”   
  
_Lovely._ Stiles sighed.  _Another cover up about the supernatural killings here in town._   
  
“We’re going to clean it up…” Stiles’ mind flashed back to all that red on everything.  He didn’t even realized he was over the side of the bed again till Melissa was rubbing his back and keeping herself as calm as she could as she tried to calm him down.  But the vomiting gave way to sobs, wracking his body so hard that he was nearly screaming by the end.  The electronics in the room burst into flames, shooting sparks and lightning as he screams.  There seems to be no end to it till Melissa managed to crawl close enough to stick him with the sedative she’d started keeping in her pocket when dealing with anything supernatural.  Stiles felt the world fade away from him between the exhaustion of his ambient magic and the drugs.   
  


***

  
  
Stiles came to in the back of a car.  He had a sense that it was a patrol car.  His voice slurring as he spoke.   
  
“Dad, where are we going?” His voice heavy with sleep.   
  
“You need to be treated at Eichen House…”   
  
“But they don’t like me there.” Stiles muttered.   
  
“Stiles you blew out the electronics in the entire floor of the hospital…” That wasn’t his dad’s voice.   
  
“I don’t… I don’t remember…” His mind struggling to grasp onto anything as he floated in and out.   
  
“I know.  It’s okay.  You’ll be fine.” Jordan.  That was Jordan talking.  Jordan was driving his dad’s car.  His dead dad’s car.  Stiles started to wake up more.  “Stiles.”   
  
He focused in on Jordan.   
  
“I know.  Now focus on the sound of my voice.  Nothing else, just my voice.” Stiles narrowed his mind down to Jordan’s voice.  “It’s okay.  You’re going to have visitors, and people checking on you.  And there will be over sight.  If they so much as sneeze at you wrong, I’ll make sure they’re thrown out of here.  They know how far from trusting them we are, and that their treatment of you is what will determine if we allow them to remain in charge of their autonomy.”   
  
Stiles wasn’t sure he was getting all the words, but the tone was one of protection and understanding.  Jordan cared for him.  Jordan would make sure they didn’t hurt him.  He could live with that.  He felt something pull into him as he relaxed.   
  
“That’s better Stiles.  Just sit back and relax.  And I’ll spend the day with you while you get situated.  You’ll have your own room.  And you’ll have someone in to see about teaching you about controlling your magic.   
  
_I have magic… Right… I… I don’t…_   
  
“It’s okay.  Just relax.” Jordan kept talking, kept his voice calm and light as they pulled up and parked.  He kept going all the way through his processing and Stiles being walked to his new room.  A couple people asked why he was talking like that but when he stopped to answer them the magic seemed to go wild out of Stiles and lash out at the electronics.  There was suddenly someone else.  Someone who stood in front of Stiles and his eyes were having trouble focusing on the person.  While his magic was reaching out wild and blind, this person was like a still point in a pond.  He looked up at the face and felt his mind drawing into a peaceful place.   
  
“Rest child.  You’re safe now.” Stiles blinked and felt his mind go blank as his world was swallowed in shadows.


	2. Spilled Milk

“Derek.” Jackson nodded as he spotted Derek standing outside the oldest building in the city.  Crowley Manor had been one of the first buildings, if not the first building built in Beacon Hills when the Hales settled the area and built the city.  The interesting thing was, that they hadn’t built it.  As soon as they had picked the spot and started mapping out the town, it was suddenly there, and on every map that anyone tried to draw, Crowley Manor always was on them.  The Hales had discovered that it was a manifestation of the land’s magic, and staffed by a neutral race that acted as a mediator between the various supernatural factions.   
  
“Jackson.” Derek nodded to him.   
  
“Any word why this is being called?” Jackson glanced at the double French doors they were standing in front of.   
  
“Noah Stilinski was killed by a supernatural.”   
  
“Shit.” Jackson sighed.  “Who did it?”   
  
“Scott McCall.”   
  
“THE FUCK!” Jackson growled, his eyes going reptilian.   
  
“Calmness, Mr. Whitmore.” A pale hand was placed on his shoulder.   
  
“Alton.” Derek nodded to the pale man in his cream colored suit as he stood behind Jackson.   
  
“I’m sorry Alton.” Jackson let his eyes go back to human as he looked up at the tall fairy who stood behind him.   
  
“It’s quite alright.  It was a shock, and we are not inside the manor proper.  But do keep yourself calm once inside.  Neutral ground is…delicate.” Alton looked into the house as it seemed to give a barely audible sound.  “The others are arriving.” Alton nodded and looked at pair of them before bowing.  As they turned behind them to look at the street, they realized Alton was gone.   
  
But coming up the walkway was Scott, Liam, and Melissa, followed by Isaac and Ethan.  Deaton, Morel, and Braydon as well as Lydia and Danny were walking behind them.  Jackson started counting his breath as he looked at Scott.  How dare that fucking ass hole show his face here.   
  
“Jackson.” Derek shook his head.   
  
“Your mom inside?”   
  
“And Peter.”   
  
“Good.  Because I’m going to need someone to stealing focus so I don’t disgrace myself here.” He sighed.   
  
“I know the feeling.” Derek shook his head. “It’s why I’m standing out here till everyone goes in.”   
  
“Smart move.” Jackson moved to the side to let Scott and the others pass by, Isaac gave him a concerned look and Jackson shook his head, showing a claw that had formed and Isaac nodded, understanding instantly why Jackson was standing outside.  The fae who run, or served depending on your view point, Crowley Manor had two simple rules.  No violence inside the grounds, and no use of supernatural powers inside the house itself.  The land was a safe space, a place where no magic, no supernatural, and no god touched power may flex its muscle.  Alton had always been the timeless doorman who explained the rules and guided the packs and groups of supernaturals into the Manor.  But it was Ainsley who ran the house proper.   
  
“You ready?” Derek looked over at Jackson.   
  
“As I will ever be.” Jackson sighed as he checked that his claws weren’t out and headed into the Victorian style Manor house.  Alton led them to the council chamber.  There were six trapezoid shaped tables forming a large hexagon around a silver tree with clear leaves and was raining down golden light.  Derek went to the Hale Pack’s table, Peter on his mother’s left and Derek on her right.  Next over was the McCall Pack table, Scott in the center with Melissa on his left and Liam on his right.  Jackson walked on to his pack table.  Sitting in the center with Ethan on his left and Isaac on his right, next was Deacon sitting in the center of the Druid’s table with Morel on his right and Braydon on his left.  The next table Lydia sat at the center with Danny on her right and Kira on her left.  At the last table was Ainsley sitting in the center with Alton on her right and Arlen, another male fae, on her left.   
  
“I call this conclave to order.” Ainsley stood up.  “In the light of the sacred tree, we the leaders of the supernatural community are gathered here to deal with something that threatens the treaty we have founded with in this land.” She looked directly at Scott.  “A supernatural being has killed a mortal man.” There was a murmur that went through the gathered, and Jackson crossed his arms.   
  
“Do you have anything to add about the situation, Scott McCall?” Ainsley sat down.   
  
“I took the life of Noah Stilinski.” The murmuring returned.  “A hunter, by the name of Gilmore Hilliard broke the law of the land and came here against the compact we have with the Hunter’s Conclave, and came here to hunt Stiles Stilinski.  Stiles recently manifested magical abilities.  We, my pack and the Druids, were in talks to get him training.  But before we could finalize those talks, Mr. Hilliard broke into the Stilinski home with poisoned weapons to kill Stiles.  Noah saved Stiles, but was grazed by the poison of the weapons.  He was going to die.  Slow, painful, over weeks if not months.  He would have been in unending agony well past the breaking point.  And if any of us had tried to turn him, he would have died nearly instantly.  And possibly killed us as well, so I took his pain and he asked me to kill him.”   
  
“To which we only have your word.” Lydia looked across the room at Scott.   
  
“Stiles was there…”   
  
“Out of hearing range I assume?” Talia looked to Scott.   
  
“Yes.”   
  
“Then his testimony would be moot here.” Talia shrugged.   “Where is the boy now, in the hospital?” Talia looked to Melissa.   
  
“No.” Melissa shook her head.   
  
“No?” Jackson scoffed.  “Where did you put him?”   
  
“I…” Melissa started.   
  
“If it please the council, may I speak?” Jordan Parish stood in the doorway.   
  
“The council recognizes the unaligned Hell Hound.” Ainsley nodded as Scott sat down.   
  
“I took Stiles to Echen house.”   
  
“What!?” Jackson stood bolt upright.   
  
“A fairy is sitting with him now.” Jackson sat back down.   
  
“We have taken it upon ourselves to assert some measure of control over the rogue elements of Echen house.  The Echen family created the estate to care for one of their own who could not control her manifestations of the supernatural.  So we placed Blaine in a major role inside the house.  He will ensure as our eyes and ears inside that no supernatural and no mortal lay a hand on him.”   
  
“Thank you.” Jackson nodded.   
  
“Right…” Jordan frowned at Jackson for a moment.  “I had to talk Stiles down in the patrol car when he awoke and began to panic.”   
  
“What form did his magic take?” Lydia had a pencil she was playing with.   
  
“I’m not qualified to know that.  I know that he blew out the electrical systems for an entire floor of the hospital and he nearly melted the electrical systems in my patrol car.”   
  
“When we were called in…” Deaton looked at the others.  “He was attempting necromancy.”   
  
“Untrained?” Ainsley frowned.   
  
“He had opened the gate and was pulling his father’s soul back into the ruined corpse.  He was also beginning to knit the flesh back together.  But it was killing him.  It seems that what eve r Stiles is… he is not immune to the laws that govern our magics as well.”   
  
“A life for a life.” Danny nodded.   
  
“Exactly.” Deaton confirmed.   
  
“But you don’t know what he is?” Peter scoffed.   
  
“Having only doing a preliminary scan… I know that he has vast store houses of untapped power.  So much so that he subverts electrical current and mutes it from existence while he is performing his magic.  So much so that when his magic is detracted, it causes catastrophic electrical surges in the devices around him, even those unplugged.”   
  
“We want to respect the Council’s rule that once a supernatural arises, that they be given training and to choose which group they wish to represent them.  But given Stiles’ mental state…” Scott bit his lip.  “We move for him to be placed in our care.”   
  
“Wait…” Jackson frowned.   
  
“Are you talking ownership or stewardship?” Lydia frowned.   
  
“Uh… POINT OF ORDER!” Jackson spoke over everyone.   
  
“Yes, Jackson Whitmore?” Ainsley looked directly at Jackson with her black eyes.   
  
“Are we going to move right on past the fact that Scott McCall took a life?  Good reason or not, which is suspect since the only true witness is dead, and the only person who was there is now in an asylum for the damaged and broken.  The fact of the matter is that we cannot let this stand.  When I first became a Kanima I killed several people before I learned to control my bestial nature, and was harshly punished for this fact and was nearly denied a seat on this council till it became apparent that the other Kanimas would need an alpha to lead the pack.”   
  
“We remember.” Ainsley nodded.   
  
“And you will remember that it was with consultation with both Noah and Stiles that this council released those restrictions placed upon me to allow me to have this seat.  As their families were a long time ally to this council.”   
  
“We remember each of the Stilinski men who have come before from before the founding.  We were allied with them long before the foundations of this town were dreamed of by the Hales.”   
  
“And you’re going to tell me that with all that history, you’ll stand there and condemn the last heir to their line to the hands of the man who murdered his father, good intentions or ill, human blood is on his hands now.  And you’re really going to sit there and really not punish him?” Jackson gestured at Scott who visible recoiled.   
  
“Alpha Whitmore has a point.” Talia nodded. “The Hales would see justice done, in equal measure.  We would request someone else be made conservator of the boy and his assets.”   
  
“This is ridiculous.” Melissa sighed.   
  
“Yes Ms. McCall?” Ainsley looked at her.   
  
“The boys grew up as practical brothers.  There was a time Noah and I thought about marriage to make it official.  If Scott says Noah asked him to kill him, knowing what it would do to Stiles, I believe my son.  And I believe that we as a pack have the right to protect someone who was already under our protection as an honorary member of the pack till his powers first manifested.”   
  
“This is also true.” Ainsley nodded.  “The boy is untrained and untapped.  Without Noah to tether him, he will be unmoored and unable to find focus or clarity.  And we cannot in good faith commit the boy to the care of Stiles the senior.  His deteriorated mental status makes him unfit to supervise the boy’s recovery.”   
  
“Before you take it to a vote Ainsley.” Lydia spoke up. “I believe each of us has a desire to see Stiles under the care of our own group.  Am I wrong?” She looked at the others and no one shot her down.   
  
“We fairies are all neutral in this.  The boy is an unknown and while we do offer our aid to him in his time of need, due to the services of his family and those that he himself have rendered on our behalf.  We cannot in good faith put ourselves forwards to restrict the child to our life style.  Nor are we qualified to do anything but act as council and listen.  Ultimately it will be the tree that decides who is best for Stiles’ care.”   
  
“Should we each make a pitch to the tree as to what we offer?” Talia looked to Ainsley.  The tree moved as if moved by an unseen breeze before a leaf landed on Talia’s table.   
  
“The tree has spoken and chosen you to speak first.” Ainsley looked at Talia.   
  
“Right.  The Hale pack would offer the boy a home, the protection, and access to our resources.  Including both our money, family, support, and our extensive library.  We would see him grow and flourish under our tutelage.” Talia nodded and sat down.   
  
“The McCall pack would offer Stiles a home, a family, a connection, and a place to place down roots.  Stiles is my blood brother, and is my brother in all the ways that matter to us. And I owe him a blood debt both for the times he has saved my life as well as for the taking of his father.  I would not see that debt compounded by not being there for him now, in his most dire time of need.” Scott sat down.   
  
“The Whitmore pack would offer him a place in our pack.  Not as a token magic user.  Not as a weapon.  Not as something to give us status, and not as a way to assuage guilt.  I owe Stiles.  And it is my belief that he would be better off with us than any other group.” Jackson sat down.   
  
“The Druids would offer a place in our conclave, he would learn our secrets and explore his powers and learn control and focus.  From us he would learn what he is and how to function within the world we serve” Deaton sat down.   
  
“Okay.” Lydia sighed as she stood up, having sat through everyone else’s pleading with the tree.  “I’m Lydia Martin.  I represent the hedge witches and our coven.  We do not hold to the order and hording of the Druids.  We do not have the money of the Hales.  We don’t have the history of the McCalls, and we don’t have the passion of the Whitmores.  We’re hedges.  We learn from the roots up and we are more in touch with the wild magics.  Stiles has power he can’t control.  He needs someone to make choices in good faith for him.  And I can’t say for sure that’s me, but as a collective of voices, I think we could help him find his own voice and stand on his own, not beholden to anyone here.” Lydia sat down.   
  
“Well said Lydia Martin.” Ainsley stood.  “If you will.” She bowed and the tree moved again to the unseen breeze before a leaf landed on her table, a word written in the leaf.  “The tree has spoken.” Ainsley picked up the leaf.  “The McCall pack shall be granted stewardship of Stiles Stilinski.”   
  
“I object!” Jackson stood up.   
  
“Your objection is noted.” Ainsley nodded.   
  
“And what of his punishment?” Talia casually glanced at Ainsley.   
  
“Owing to his record of only turning humans who are in desperate need, and his opposition to violence, and his connection to the boy, Alpha McCall shall be put on probationary restrictions for now.”   
  
“What’s that mean?” Scott stood slowly.   
  
“In regards to both Stiles’ care and the management of your pack when it comes to matters pertaining to the mortals or concerns of this council, then you will answer to the unaligned Hell Hound, Jordan Parish.” Ainsley looked at Scott.   
  
“That’s it?” Jackson frowned.   
  
“He has a high standing with the council, and he has risked that.  If he fails this probation period, his pack will be barred from this council.” She gave Scott a warning look.   
  
“Thank you for guidance.” Scott bowed.   
  
“See that you do not make us regret this.” Ainsley stood and walked away.   
  
“I can’t believe this.” Jackson frowned.   
  
“You lost, let it go.” Scott scoffed as he rolled his eyes leaving the room.   
  
“Let it go.” Jackson blinked at him, following him out of the room.   
  
“I must request that you calm down.” Alton suddenly was blocking his path.   
  
“I’ll be as calm as I can till I’m off the property.”   
  
“That’s all I ask.” Alton moved aside.   
  
“Jackson…” Derek shook his head.   
  
“I’m just going to talk to him.”   
  
“Yeah… I believe that.” Peter smirked.   
  
“Do make sure you start having your talk on the sidewalk.” Talia said as she carefully walked the leaf back to the base of the tree and gave it back to the tree.  It slowly gained an inner light and floated back up to rejoin the twig it had come from.   
  
“Good advice.” Jackson nodded and headed out of the room.   
  
“On a scale of one to ten…” Isaac looked at Derek.  “How screwed are we if he blows up here?”   
  
“A forty.” Peter smirked.   
  
“I thought as much.” Isaac stood up.  “We should go keep him calm.” Ethan nodded before standing and following Jackson out quickly.  Watching as he jogged to keep up with Scott, waiting till he got off the last step to the Manor before he spoke.   
  
“Let it go?  Really?” Jackson growled.   
  
“What do you want Jackson?” Scott turned around and looked at him.   
  
“I want Stiles not to be under your care.”   
  
“Why do you care?  It’s not like you two like each other.”   
  
“And it’s not like he’s going to want to LOOK at you.” Jackson sneered.  “I mean, the last time he saw you, you had his dad’s blood.  Do you think he’s really going to want to be near you?”   
  
“shut up.” Scott growled half under his breath.   
  
“What?  Can’t handle that the whole reason he’s in a hospital is because he watched you kill his dad and you broke him and you’re scared that you’re never going to get him back.”   
  
“I SAID SHUT UP!” Scott turned around, his eyes red, as he bore his fangs at Jackson.   
  
“So this is what the pacifist does to people questioning his leadership.  I suppose I shouldn’t worry too hard, you’re libel to fail your probation anyways.” Jackson turned to walk away, Scott charged at him and before he knew what was up, Jackson’s tail was under his feet, unbalancing him and claws were stabbing him in the gut.  Jackson held him still.  “Know this.  You may have won this fucking stewardship but I’m going to be keeping my own eye on Stiles.  And I’m not going to trust you or your reasons or your motives.  So remember the fact that I’m an alpha too and I can mess your shit up a lot better than you can mine.” He pulled his claws out and wiped them on Scott’s jeans.  “Enjoy the paralysis.” Jackson walked away.


	3. Bleeding Out

“Stiles?” Morel asked as Stiles turned to face her.   
  
_You can hear me like this, so what’s it matter?_ Stiles raised an eyebrow.   
  
“Because you’re not speaking with anyone, not even me, not really.”   
  
_So?_ Stiles shrugged.  He’d been here in Echen house for weeks now, and while he wasn’t in a fugue state randomly lashing out with his magic every time he was provoked, he had stopped speaking.  Even to Jordan who’d been by more than enough to keep him company.  It’d been a while back when he realized the Druids could hear his thoughts.   
  
“It’s a sign that you’re not healing.”   
  
_How?  I’m fine.  I just don’t have a reason to speak to anyone._   Stiles let the errant thought wash over her.  The Druids and the Hedges had to struggle to project thoughts into Stiles’ mind, but he was barely even giving it a thought to let them hear these thoughts.  They had no ideas the depths that he was holding inside.  It was easier to let most thoughts flood out of him.   
  
And it didn’t hurt that he knew when they were lying to him.  It wasn’t like with the werewolves.  He didn’t hear a skipped heart beat.  He just knew.  It was like their very being screamed it out to him.  He honestly didn’t know why.   
  
“Stiles.” Morel spoke again.   
  
_What?_ Stiles wasn’t looking at her.  He was looking at the line of magic that was running up the wall like a trickle of water that was going from the floor up to the ceiling.   
  
“You’re not paying attention.”   
  
_I can see you just fine._   
  
“That’s not the point.”   
  
_Then what is?_ Stiles was board.  And that was when he became his most dangerous.  While he wasn’t having accidents and flare ups when he thought about his dad now… when his attention wandered, his magic would lose focus and he’d lose control.  Which was probably why the magic had started going up the wall, if he stopped and thought about it.  This place was old, but the magic didn’t leak.  And this magic was just a steady little leak.   
  
“The point is, that you need to talk about how you feel.  How you’re doing.”   
  
_I’m doing fine._   
  
“No, you’re not.”   
  
_Circular logic.  I’m capable of communication, I am either choosing not to or unable to get over the issues and my subconscious is stopping me.  Either way, why do you care?_   Stiles glanced at her now.   
  
“I’ve been appointed by the Druid council because of my ability to focus on emotional connections with my patients and…”   
  
_No._ Stiles turned away from her.   
  
“I’m sorry?”   
  
_Nope.  That’s not the reason you care if I speak again._ Stiles shrugged.  _It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.  It’s okay if you don’t know about it.  But please don’t think you can lie to me anymore.  None of you can.  It’s been kind of stupid to try._   Stiles watched the magic and started making it draw shapes as it went up the wall.   
  
“Stiles I don’t know…”   
  
_Fine._   Stiles was still looking at the magic but he reached behind him with his mind and took a hold of her mind.   
  


***

  
  
“You don’t understand Morel… we’ve been at this for weeks, we’ve taken detailed scans, blood samples, tested him against every known supernatural sample, and nothing.  We don’t know what he is or what he might be.  We’re lost.” Deaton slammed his hands down on the desk full of papers.   
  
“Deaton… so what if we’re not able to find out what he is…?”   
  
“So what?  SO WHAT?!” Deaton glared at her. “Without knowing what he is, we don’t have a means to stop him.  With a druid you use the right herbs and you rob them of their powers.  With hedges you just need the right kind of metals.  Werewolves and other were creatures only need one or two herbs.  Hell even Chimeras can be stopped by rosemary.  But Stiles… Stiles is different.”   
  
“So?  I don’t…”   
  
“What if Scott fails?  What if Scott can’t get through to him?  What if none of them can.  And then we’re asked by the council to put him down?” Deaton had a wild look to his eyes.   
  
“They wouldn’t…”   
  
“They have before.  With the ones too dangerous to allow to live in even Echen house.”   
  
“They’d never… not with Stiles.”   
  
“You don’t know that.  You’re not the High Oak.  You don’t know the things the council can ask of us… the things… you don’t…” Deaton slumped over his desk.   
  
“Brother…” Morel was worried.   
  
“If you can’t get him to talk, if you can’t get him to answer the questions… than we’ll have to recommend he stay in Echen house… or that he be put down.  It’s the only way.”   
  
“Deaton!” Morel was shocked.   
  
“We have to do it before he gets too powerful, before he… “ Deaton shook his head, slumping at his desk again.   
  
“Deaton I will not recommend he stay there… I won’t….”   
  
“Then get him to talk.  Get him to say anything… he has to use his words.”   
  
“But why… what difference…”   
  
“Words have power.  If you can make him speak we have spells to test his powers, charms that’ll reveal who and what he truly is…but he must speak… he must…”   
  


***

  
  
Morel woke with a startled gasp and stepped back from Stiles.  “H-how did … how did you…?”   
  
_Dunno.  Just know I can.  Every time any of you lie to me.  I see the truth.  You scream it at me.  I can’t talk.  I don’t know why, I don’t know how… I don’t know what I am any more than you.  And I’m not going to ‘just do it’ because you or Deaton say so.  I’m not here to assuage his fears or yours._   
  
“What are you here for?” Morel asked cautiously.   
  
_I’m here because I’m broken, and I scare you.  All of you.  And maybe you should be afraid._   
  
“Stiles…”   
  
_This place can’t hold me._   Stiles looked at her now.  _It hasn’t been able to for weeks now._   
  
“What do you mean?” She frowned.   
  
_This._ Stiles atomized the room around them, they were floating in the open air, but the room was open to the outside world.   
  
“Stiles…” Morel’s voice shook.   
  
_Not an illusion.  Just raw magic.  I can see the bonds in the atoms and I can tear them apart or I can put them back together in different ways._   The room reformed but everything that wasn’t either of them was now made of glass.  _It just wears me out to do it._   The room atomized again and reformed like it had been.   
  
“Stiles… that power…”   
  
_Is draining and more than any Druid or Hedge has ever had.  Yeah, I know.  I’m a freak.  Tell me something new.  Tell me when you’ll let me out.  Tell me when I can go home and grieve in peace away from all of you._   
  
“Stiles you don’t mean that…” She took a step closer.   
  
_I mean it Morel.  I will not stay here a minute longer than I have to.  You get me out of here, or I’ll walk out the front door myself._   
  
“You can’t… you’re not ready… you’re…”   
  
_I’m not staying here forever.  And if your brother thinks he can kill me.  He can try.  I tore open the vail between life and death when I was just getting started.  And afterwards as drained as I was was the only reason any of you were able to manage me.  Now I’m not trained fully, I’m mostly just doing hodge podge sloppy work right now.  But if I stay here and keep getting training, I’ll become a bigger danger and more unstable.  So you have two choices.  I go home.  Or you try to kill me._   He looked at her.  _And you don’t have it in you to kill me.  Deaton does.  He’ll try.  He’s planned it while he sat in here talking me through the basics of the Druid path.  He sits here teaching me magic and thinking about what combination of drugs or elements will kill me or keep me subdued.  And you know he’s convinced that either knocking me out, getting me to overdo it, or exhaust myself is his best route to kill me.  So he doesn’t have to look me in the eyes as he slits my throat._   
  
“He…” The fear on her face.   
  
_Yeah.  Like I said, you people are screaming at me every minute of every day.  I want out of here.  Get me out._   Stiles turned back to the wall.   
  
“Stiles…” Nothing.  “Stiles?” Still nothing. “STILES!” She shouted.  “ _Stiles can you hear me?_ ” She sent with her mind and all she felt was a wall, a blank, featureless wall.  One of the earliest and spells that a Druid had to master.  Was how to shield their thoughts from others.  And Stiles was doing it better than any Druid she had ever met.  But as she searched for a seam in his wall she realized that it wasn’t just his mind.  He’d built walls around every mind in Echen house.  Every mind was walled off from her.  She reached out and could feel the space between them.  How was he doing this?  How did he have the strength?   
  
“I’ll talk to Deaton and the Council.” She nearly collapsed from the sudden sound from all the minds being opened at once.   
  
_Good._   Was the last thing she would hear from him while he stayed within these walls.  She came back to see him a handful of times, but he never spoke again.  His mind was quiet to all of them.  Deaton came to see him and Stiles looked into him and showed him just what he’d thought and said about Stiles since this had happened and he never came near Stiles again.  Danny came and so did Lydia.  They were kind, and he’d smile at them and just listen to them talk.   
  
They gave him ideas and magic lessons.  He could do the magic, but he was starting to get tired from doing them.  The visits began to taper off as he stopped communicating with anyone.  Eventually he was silent to everyone.  Especially Scott when he showed up.   
  


***

  
  
“I hope you like what we did with the place.” Scott was talking.  Scott had been talking for the last hour of packing up Stiles from Echen house and loading the car, and driving all the way here.  Stiles sensed that it was his silence more than anything that alarmed Scott, but on some level he couldn’t care less.   
  
Scott had explained a couple times about his dad.  He didn’t care.  It didn’t matter. The trust he’d always had in Scott had ended the second his claws became red with his father’s blood.  So as far as he was concerned he didn’t care if Scott thought he was justified or not.  He didn’t care if Scott felt like he had to make it up to Stiles.  All he cared about was finally getting to sleep in his own bed and crash for a while.   
  
“We cleaned up and repainted the walls… I wanted you to come live with us, but mom and Morel were insisting that you come home and try living here first.”   
  
Smart people.  They listened.   
  
“Anyway, we stocked the fridge and pantry yesterday, so there should be all your favorites in there.” Scott was showing him what was in the fridge, all of the things Stiles liked to eat but none of the healthy crap he’d bought for his dad.  All of that had spoiled by now and had to be thrown out.  Logically he knew that, but it was still a blow to see another part of him erased from the house.   
  
“Hey… it’s…it’s okay buddy.” Scott hugged him. Why was he touching him?   
  
“We didn’t touch the upstairs.  There wasn’t any damage up there.  And… I sort of figured you’d want to go through your dad’s things.”   
  
Damn right he would, not like Scott had any right to.  Stiles simply turned and went up stairs, noticing the change in the wall paint in the hall by the stairs.  Pausing to look at the spot where his dad had died. His mind replaying that horror for a second before he went on up and went to his father’s room, sitting down on the bed and relishing how things still smelled of his dad here.   
  
“I have to go to work, but I’ll check on you later… are you okay?” Stiles made the door shut and Scott sighed and left quietly. Stiles sent out magic to keep his father’s scent in this room as he curled up in the bed, a depression appearing in the bed beside him as he made an invisible force that felt like his father and snuggled into it.   
  
He couldn’t bring his dad back with out dying himself.  A life for a life.  They’d drilled that into him while he was studying.  But he could do things they couldn’t.  But he also knew what he’d felt when he’d touched where his father was.  He was in a place where he could be with his mom.  And Stiles couldn’t take him away from her, or her form him.  Not again.  So he would live with the loss and wait till he joined them.   
  
He thought about the food down stairs and shook his head, burying it into his father’s pillows.  He wasn’t hungry.  Food just didn’t sound like it would sit well with the way his stomach was feeling just now.  He’d eat later.  Later… He drifted off to sleep.   
  


***

  
  
Stiles quickly got himself into a pattern.  He’d get up, when he was used to his dad leaving for work.  He’d go to his room, clean, maybe watch some tv.  He’d work on his homework from school.  And then he’d putter around the house.  He still had bereavement leave from school for a few more days.  By the second day, he was entirely caught up for school and had his homework sent in.  Not that it was sent with Scott or Liam.  In fact none of the pack came and checked up on him.  Jordan stopped by.  Jordan and Isaac.  Isaac showed up and sat silently with him.  Didn’t say a word, just was there.  That was comforting.  His mind was quiet too.  The one time he’d had a thought it’d been to express how Jackson wished he could come over but Scott had gone to the council and asked that everyone give Stiles space while he adjusted to coming home.   
  
Scott thought he should be left alone.  Deaton’s influence no doubt.  Deaton wanted him dead.  He should live forever just to spite the druid.  But that wouldn’t get him what he wanted.  So he left it alone.  He sent his work in with Isaac and hugged him.  Jordan and him both got hugs when they where there.  He didn’t want to admit to himself that he was becoming touch starved.  But he could see the signs.   
  
But he didn’t have the words to tell anyone.


	4. Milk and Honey

Stiles had been back a week and he looked thinner.  Jackson wasn’t hundred percent sure, but he was relatively sure that he’d lost at least ten pounds and that his eyes looked like he had bags under them.  He was the picture of living death…. The more Jackson looked at him the more he realized that this was bothering him.  He made sure to pass by Stiles.   
  
“How’s it going today?” Stiles shrugged at him.  “Isaac told me about the talking thing.  Sorry I couldn’t stop by before.  Isaac I can send over but if I came myself, Scott would make problems.” Stiles rolled his eyes.   
  
“That at me or him?” Jackson smirked and Stiles nodded his head towards where Scott was going around a corner.  “Gotcha.” He smiled.  “You get the homework done for bio?” Stiles nodded. “I was up half the night preparing for the full moon next week.” Stiles arched a brow.  “I work up stuff a head of time.  I don’t like ti let it wait.” Stiles nodded.  “Still doing the silent thing?” Jackson gave him a smile.   
  
Stiles nodded as he filled his bag.   
  
“Should I be worried?” Stiles arched a brow. “I mean… you not talking… you’re not like going to suddenly start screaming in your head are you?” Stiles stopped and thought about it a moment before shaking his head.  “Good.” Jackson smiled and started to walk off when Stiles grabbed his arm and weakly pulled him back.  “What?” Jackson turned around and Stiles hugged him close.   
  
The scent of sandalwood, lightning, and just a general sense of Stiles… it over powered everything in Jackson and his eyes transformed.  He was home.  This was…this was what he was missing.  He shivered and he breathed in deeply. He could smell the starvation and hunger on Stiles, and the lingering scent of death.  He felt sad suddenly. And in that instant he knew he had to fix this.   
  


***

  
  
“What’s wrong with him?” Jackson walked up to Lydia and Danny in the library.   
  
“What do you mean?” Lydia glanced at him, the schematics for a spell sketched out between them on a page that Danny was covering up part of.   
  
“I can’t read spell, so that’s kind of pointless.” Jackson glared.  “And you know what I mean.”   
  
“Stiles isn’t speaking to anyone.  It’s not just you.” Danny looked up with apologetic eyes.   
  
“Not that.  Stiles isn’t eating.” Jackson felt exasperated as he looked between them.   
  
“What?” Lydia frowned.   
  
“You hadn’t noticed, he’s lost like ten pounds!” Jackson started pacing in front of their table.  “And he’s clearly not sleeping right.  And the not talking thing… and his magic feels like he’s loosing control…” Jackson kept muttering to himself, he only stopped when he realized that neither of them were speaking to him.  “What?”   
  
“You’ve very _invested_ in Stiles’ health.” Lydia watched him closely.   
  
“I…” Jackson flushed.  “I just care about him as a person.”   
  
“Right…” Lydia sighed, drew a symbol in the air that hung there and glowed.  “Yeah….” She looked at Danny whose eyes went wide.   
  
“What?”   
  
“The trial?” Danny looked at her.   
  
“I think he can pull it off.”   
  
“But…”   
  
“You saw the colors.”   
  
“True.”   
  
“And he’s not entirely stupid.” Lydia shrugged.   
  
“Right here!” Jackson slammed his hands down.   
  
“Yes, we’re aware.” Lydia frowned.   
  
“And?”   
  
“What exactly do you want?” She narrowed her eyes.   
  
“I want a way to fix Stiles, make him eat, make him heal, and to get Scott out of in control over him because I don’t like how Scott’s doing it.”   
  
“There might be a way to do just that.” Lydia smirked.  “Follow me.” She stood up, walking to the back of the library and drawing a glyph on one of the walls.  “Danny.”   
  
“I’ve got it.” He moved and as the wall opened up he cast a glamour to keep them invisible as she and Jackson walked down into the sub basement of the school, the anti chamber seemed to come out of nowhere and Jackson frowned at it as he came down to spot Peter Hale sitting in a corner that looked like it was a personal library.   
  
“Well well, what do we have here?” Peter stood up.   
  
“I’m here for the map.” Lydia crossed her arms.   
  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”   
  
“I’ll vote your way on one topic.”   
  
“Three.”   
  
“Two.”   
  
“Agreed.” Peter held out his hand and she shook it, a purple light forming between their hand.   
  
“I can’t wait till I need your vote.” Peter smirked as he lead her to the vault door and put his claws into the lock and turned it.  “So why’s Whitmore here?”   
  
“He’s going to be the champion.”   
  
“Oh?  What could he want the treasure for?”   
  
“Stiles.” Jackson said quietly.   
  
“OH… I see.” Peter chuckled.  “Makes sense.  This way, and touch nothing.” He walked into the vault, the lights coming on as he went, till he walked down shelves full of various items that drew Jackson’s attention but Peter cleared his throat and they kept pace with him till he walked them to a map.  “This is what you want” He gestured and Jackson reached up and picked up the paper, it began to fill with ink and symbols.   
  
“What’s this?”   
  
“It’s a map to a trial.”   
  
“A trial?”   
  
“Listen.” She grabbed Jackson’s jaw and looked him in the eye.  “You want the power to rule Stiles and fix his problems; you need the treasure this map takes you to. But the only way to get the treasure is to pass the trial and prove yourself worthy.”   
  
“It’s worth it.  If you’re heart’s pure.” Peter shrugged.  “One of my ancestors used it to help build this town, and when he was done he returned it to the cave.”   
  
“That why you haven’t tried to go get it?”   
  
“Do I strike you as pure of heart?”   
  
“There’s a lot of ways to be pure of heart.” Jackson commented and they both looked at him.   
  
“What?” Peter blinked at him.   
  
“Pure of heart isn’t just honest and wanting to help others.  If you’re true to yourself and your nature and accept that, that’s pure of heart, just not the way everyone pictures it.”   
  
“That… is an interesting theory.” Peter nodded.  “I like you.  I hope you survive the trials.”   
  
“Survive?”   
  
“There’s a cost to the trials.  If you fail, you die.”   
  
“WHAT?!” Jackson rounded on Lydia.   
  
“I wouldn’t have offered this if I thought you’d lose.” She shrugged, walking around him to walk out of the vault.   
  
“Watch that one.  She scares the crap out of me.” Peter nodded after Lydia.   
  
“You and me both.” Jackson nodded and followed after Lydia.   
  


***

  
  
Jackson frowned at the old wooden door in the ground in the middle of the woods that didn’t seem to go anywhere.  How was this supposed to be something magic?  He couldn’t sense anything going on here, not even the sense of something supernatural.  Frowning heavily, Jackson opened the door and walked down the stairs to a blank chamber.  He walked into it and let his eyes go reptilian as he tried to see what was going on with the blank walls. Maybe the treasure was already gone?   
  
_This is stupid._ Jackson rolled his eyes and turned around to find another blank wall, no sign of a door.  He rushed over to it and found it solid and whole.  The stairs and door he’d passed through, simply gone.   
  
“What the hell?” Jackson frowned.  He looked down at the map in his hand and it now only showed the single room he was standing in.  “Great.  Just fucking great.” Jackson banged his head on the wall.  “Hello?” Jackson called out after a while.  Nothing.  Jackson sighed as he put his back to the wall and slide to the floor.  Looking around he realized a couple things quickly.  There was no windows, no doors, no way in or out.  But there was sunlight.  He moved his hands and got a sense that there had to be windows in here, even if he couldn’t see them.  Frowning he closed his eyes and focused his senses down to his ears and his nose.  There were two sources, one on either side, which was flowing a little bit of air, and some noises from outside.  But when he opened his eyes there wasn’t anything there but blank walls.  Taking his shoes off, Jackson threw a shoe at either wall and with a rain of glass, two windows were now revealed.   
  
“So illusions are the game.” Jackson closed his eyes and touched the wall in front of him, still just as solid as it had been before.  He went to pick up one of his shoes and realized they were gone.  Okay… so you give as you go.  Okay, he could live with that.  He tossed his watch at the wall where the door should have been but it hit the wall and slid down.  Fine, be a wall.  Jackson picked it up and threw it across at the other wall which vanished revealing a simple brown wooden door with runes etched into its entire surface.  His watch nowhere to be seen as he walked in his socked feet and heading on to the door and testing it.  It was unlocked and it opened for him easily.  He stepped through to find another stone chamber.  Only every surface was covered with runes of every size and shape.  Some no bigger than his pinky, others the size of his head.   
  
“Okay… so the first test was to see without my eyes.  I get that.” Jackson spoke alone.  “And I get taking my things as offerings or trophies.  But this one…” Jackson paused.  Sniffing he could smell Stiles.  Going silent he followed the smell to a corner where there was a tiny rusty rune that looked half dulled.  He extended his claw and used his venom to clean the rust off of it, his claws, to slowly dig the crud out of the rune and redo the etching of the rune.  No sooner had he finished than the runes vanished and the wall now had another wooden door, this time in crimson red.  It again was unlocked and he entered into another chamber, this one caused him to stop in his tracks.  There lay Stiles, half dead in the middle of the room.   
  
“STILES!” Jackson took off running only to be slammed back by a wall of light.   
  
Jackson looked down and realized that the floor past a few feet from the door was entirely made of rowan wood, with a solid line of mountain ash in a lacquered unbroken line that ran around Stiles.   
  
“Fuck.” Jackson winced as he sat up.  “Okay… See without your eyes.  Rely on your instincts.  And now something that’s impossible to get to… the only person who’s ever broken mountain ash is Scott.  So…”   
  
“help me.” It was tiny.  But it was Stiles’ voice.  Stiles was hurting.  Jackson got up and put his hands on the wall.  As soon as he did he could smell it.  Stiles wasn’t just hurting.  He was bleeding.  Jackson’s eyes went wide as they were swallowed by his reptilian eyes.  He slammed himself again and again against the wall of light before he fell back panting.  Tearing his shirt from his body he threw it against the wall and roared, as his scales traveled across his body in an azure flame of light under and through his skin.  His shoulders popped as his wings came out of his back and expanded as he roared and slammed himself into the wall again and again, the magic beginning to flare.   
  
“Jax…” Jackson’s nostrils flared and he shoved his fist through the wall of light, tearing it open, clawing at the magic before thrusting it away, the lacquered mountain ash burning away and the boards between him and Stiles turning to ash before blowing away.  He panted and heaved his body as he rushed to Stiles’ side only for him to vanish in his arms.  Jackson was confused, finding himself crouched in the middle of the stone room.  Jackson looked at his hands and stood up, his wings retracting and his scales retreating as he stood there bare chested.  He looked at the door before him, this time green with runes of danger carved into it.   
  
“You really think that’s going to stop me?” Jackson opened the door and strode into the room only to scream.  He stepped back and look at his foot, the sock was scorched open, the fabric burned away from where he’d touched the floor of the next chamber.  He crouched down and touched his finger to the slightly moist stone only to hiss as it burned his finger.  “Acid… or something magical…?” Jackson saw the door on the other side of the chamber.  Black with silver markings.  “Oh that’s too easy.” Jackson looked around the chamber, every wall, the entire floor, and every inch of everything between him and the door was coated in this acid.  It couldn’t be that simple… could it?  Jackson licked his lips and took off at a sprint across the room, hissing and howling as his socks hissed and his skin burned where he touched the acid.  He made it to the door only to discover it was locked.   
  
“FUCK!” Jackson looked around and saw a glass holder on the far wall, inside was a key, floating in the same liquid that coated every inch of this chamber.  Jackson quickly jogged back to the other chamber and stood off the acid, the last of his socks smoldering against his skin as he pealed them off and threw them on the acid.  His skin of his feel badly burned and slowly healing.  He wasn’t going to be able to stand around and reach into that glass reservoir if he didn’t heal fast form this stuff.   
  
It took him only a minute to shuck his jeans and double the pants legs one in the other and then his arm down into the doubled leg.  He ran barefoot clenching his jaw as his feet burned and plunged his arm down to the shoulder into the fluid.  The jeans were burning way fast but he grabbed the key and quickly ran back to the door, unlocking it and running into the next chamber.  Shivering as he started to sweat, not just from the exertion but from the burns on his arm and feet.   
  
“Fuck.” Jackson looked at the damage and wondered what this next chamber of horrors could possibly hold for him.  He looked around the empty chamber and spotted a weight in the middle of the room.  Rolling his eyes he limped over to it and dropped his boxers on the weight, the second they made contact, the wall parted revealing a white door.  Opening it he walked into an empty chamber, and scanned the area.  The only odd thing about the empty room was a medium sized hole in the wall about hip high.  He frowned at it as he walked around the chamber.  Nothing.  And as he realized the door was gone from behind him, he was sealed in.  Great.   
  
“Okay… you wanted me naked.  You have a hole about the height of my crotch… you want me to stick my dick in the wall?” Jackson looked around.  Writing appeared on the wall.   
  
_For those who wish to save others, must be willing to sacrifice of themselves, even their most valued parts, if they would see their goal achieved._   
  
“Okay.” Jackson limped over to the hold.  “If this gives me what I need to save Stiles, I can live without it.” Jackson fitted his balls and cock into the hole.  The hole shrank and tightened around his base and rose so that he was standing normally.  The hole began to shrink farther.  “For Stiles.” Jackson closed his eyes and waited for it to keep going, to take his manhood and leave him without his sex.  The pain was almost unbearable but he clenched his burned fist and thought of Stiles being well again.  He could do this.  He could do whatever it took to get Stiles back to full health again.  There was a popping noise.   
  
Jackson opened his eyes and realized he was standing in the middle of a cave, naked, in front of a glass counter top.  Just before he was nearly blinded by a flash of azure light that flooded the chamber.   
  
“What…”   
  
“You know.  I honestly thought that last one was going to trip you up.” A voice came from behind a partition behind the counter and suddenly a man in a white on white checker vest and tousers against a solid black dress shirt and a striped black and white tight walked out, fixing himself a drink.   
  
“Uh… hello?” Jackson covered himself.   
  
“No need for that.  I’ve been watching the show for a bit now.” The guy shrugged.   
  
“I came…”   
  
“For the treasure.  Yeah I know.  Only reason anyone’s ever been foolish enough to travel through that fucking nightmare fuel series of chambers.” The guy reached behind the counter and pulled out a black tablet.   
  
“Wh… I came for a tablet?” Jackson sat down at the counter on a stool that he hadn’t noticed was there before, but that was par for the course with this place.   
  
“Oh this isn’t just any tablet.  This tablet gives you the power to reshape the people, places, and things of any world you’re in.”   
  
“Reshape how?”   
  
“Proprietary technologies.” The man smiled.   
  
“Dark shady magic that I don’t need to know the workings of.  Got it.” Jackson reached for it.   
  
“There are rules.”   
  
“Okay…?”   
  
“You must return the device as soon as your goals are achieved.  You must not murder anyone with this device.  You must not bring the dead back to life.  And you must not use the tablet on itself or on me.  And you are forbidden to use the tablet to extend your possession of it.”   
  
“Okay.”   
  
“Do you agree to these terms of service?”   
  
“Yes I do.”   
  
“Excellent.  Please place your hand palm down on the tablet.”   
  
“Okay.” Jackson did as he was told.   
  
“Jackson Whitmore, the tablet is now yours.” The man bowed.   
  
“How do I…”   
  
“Exit’s over there.” The guy pointed and Jackson realized he was standing in the first chamber, the stairs out were to his left.  He looked around confused as he stood there naked holding the tablet and feeling like he had missed something.  Whatever the hell was going on, this was bigger magic than he’d ever seen.  His burns weren’t healed though and he knew he’d been through something, and as he walked out he found his wallet, keys, watch, and everything but his clothes sitting on a small pillar outside of the chamber.  Jackson gathered it all and walked to his car and got in.   
  
This was way too fucked up.   
  
Jackson shook his head and turned on the tablet.   
  
_Welcome to the Master Tech System!_   
  
“Master Tech?”   
  
_Yes, this is the latest in reality and entity enhancement technologies.  How may I help you today?_   
  
“You’re voice activated?”   
  
_Amongst other settings?  Would you like to see your avatar?_   
  
“Yeah sure…” Jackson saw a naked version of himself on the display and began looking at the level of detail this device had on him.  The information as insanely detailed.  He scrolled through and found a section labeled soul mate, and with a nod to himself he tapped it.   
  
_Mate: Mieczyslaw “Mischief” Stiles Stilinski_   
  
“Fuuuuccckkkk.”   
  


***

  
  
“Okay… show me Stiles Stilinski’s profile?” Jackson was sitting in his bedroom watching as data filled in about Stiles.  He read down the info, sitting there in a pair of loose shorts as he read about Stiles’ depression, his silence, and his inability to eat.  Jackson went to just change them and set Stiles on a better path when a pop up alerted him to a problem.   
  
_Error: 419 - Subject’s mental and emotional state cannot be altered while primary care and custodial maintenance of subject are not held by primary user._   
  
“What’s that mean?” Jackson frowned.   
  
_That while you can make some minor changes to him, he is mystically owned by another so he is outside our reach for now._   
  
“What changes to him can I make?”   
  
_The rule that cannot be broken can surely be bent._   
  
“Okay…”   
  
_You can’t make him eat but you can make it to where he can consume a given substance to regain his health.  Then alter his craving centers to where he craves that substance above all else._   
  
“Okay… but what can I set that to.. and how do I make sure he eats it?”   
  
_I would suggest making it something your body is capable of producing so that you’re in charge of the production and distribution, and then you simply have to give him the substance and he’ll build up a desire over time as you run the programs._   
  
“Something I produce…” Jackson looked at his hands, thinking about his claws.  No, that’d be too dangerous to change.  He scratched his chest and paused.  “ISAAC!”   
  
“Yeah?” Isaac poked his head in Jackson’s room.   
  
“Gather the pack.  I have something we need to talk about.”   
  
“Okay.”


	5. Blood On the Wall

_Fuck._ Stiles winced as he sat down hard.  He’d run out of excuses so he’d went back to practice with the rest of the team.  He pulled his jersey up and winced at the bruise that was already starting to form on his side.   
  
_Fuck._   He thought again as he tenderly touched it.  Glancing around it traced the edge with magic and started weaving in a healing spell, only for his breath to catch in his throat and the bruise to double in size.  _FUCK!_   Stiles hissed as he stopped doing the magic.  Everything had been fine till he started back in his regular life.  What had gone wrong?   
  
_You know what went wrong._   Stiles sighed to himself.  Yeah, he knew.  He’d gone back to the house where his father had died, back to the house where he’d watched his mom leave in an ambulance, and where a man who had wanted to kill him had come storming in with a crossbow proclaiming that he was saving humanity with Stiles’ murder.   
  
_Maybe it’d have been better if he had._   Stiles paused as he thought about that.  No.  No… he didn’t _want_ to be dead.  He just didn’t want to be alive either right now.  Feeling confused about that he finished stripping and had to use the locker to hold himself upright.  _Fuck… I don’t…_   
  
“Here.” Jackson was standing there in his towel handing Stiles a thermos.   
  
Stiles frowned, looking down at the thermos and then arching a brow up at Jackson.   
  
“You aren’t eating.”   
  
Stiles set his jaw and glared at Jackson.   
  
“You’ve lost ten pounds.  If not more.” Jackson’s voice was low as he put the thermos in Stiles’ hand.  “It’s a liquid nutrients.  All you have to do is drink it.”   
  
Stiles glared, thrusting it back at Jackson and turning back towards his locker.   
  
“Really?” Jackson touched Stiles’ bruise earning him a hiss as he had to quickly move to catch Stiles before he collapsed.  “You’re not in any fit shape to be playing this game.”   
  
Stiles narrowed his eyes, wanting to flex magic at him and feeling it hurt already.  _He’s not wrong._ Stiles sighed as he let himself be led back to the bench and Jackson started treating his wound.   
  
“It won’t kill you to accept help from other people.”   
  
Stiles arched a brow.   
  
“Okay, what do I know, maybe it will.” He shot a look at Scott’s empty locker.  “Where is your fury leader today anyways?”   
  
Stiles shrugged.   
  
“You do realize that he’s supposed to be checking up on you and in with you every day.  Right?” Stiles gave him a blank look.  “Damn it.” Jackson sighed as he spread the ointment he’d brought with him along the bruise and got out a binding to help make sure there wasn’t much movement on Stiles’ body.  “Are you going home after school?”   
  
Stiles nodded.   
  
“I’m taking you home?” Stiles made to protest.  “I’m not taking no for an answer.  You’re getting a ride, and you’re drinking that.” He pushed the thermos back to Stiles.   
  
_Like hell I am._   Stiles crossed his arms.   
  
“Finish getting undressed or I’ll strip you myself.” Jackson stood up and headed back towards the showers where he’d been headed before he spotted Stiles having trouble and had doubled back for the thermos.   
  
_Fucker thinks I’m drinking anything because he says so._   Stiles glares at the thermos as if it had personally pissed in his cornflakes.  Not that he’d eaten cornflakes since his dad’s death.  Or anything.  He realized he hadn’t eaten anything in weeks.   
  
_He might be right._   Stiles sighed as he sat there.   
  
“Stilinski, my office, NOW!” Coach yelled and Stiles frowned, getting up slowly and walking into the Coach’s office where he’s sitting behind his desk looking over some paper work.   
  
_What now?_   Stiles sighed as he stood there.   
  
“You’re off the team Stilinski.” Stiles’ eyes went wide.  “You’re not talking.  You’re not eating.  You’re bruising like you have no clotting factor what so ever.  And I’ve been giving you a pass because of your dad.  But you need to get off the field.”   
  
Stiles fell into one of the seats, his eyes showing his shock.   
  
“Listen. “Coach Finstock came around the desk and crouched in front of Stiles.  “I get that you’re hurting.  I get that you’re not eating because you probably don’t feel like it.” Stiles nodded, crying a little.  “I’m not replacing you.” Coach put a hand on Stiles’ knee.  “If you can make progress over the next couple months, I’ll let you back on the field.  But for now, you need to think about getting better.”   
  
_But I thought I was…_ Stiles nodded solemnly.   
  
“Okay.  I checked, Scott’s listed as your emergency contact, so I called him, he’s going to be coming to get you to take you home.”   
  
_Fuck._   Stiles bit his lip and looked at the door.  He was vaguely aware of Jackson not far off listening.   
  
“Is that a problem?” Coach asked quietly.  “Is there any thing..”   
  
Stiles shook his head.  It was fine.  Stiles didn’t know why he’d felt like he needed Jackson to take care of him.  That was just being stupid.   
  
“Okay.” Coach nodded.  “Go pack up your gear.  I’m hoping that you get better.” He patted Stiles on the shoulder and walked him quietly to the door and sighed.  “If you need any help, don’t forget you can call.  Even if you just need someone to ramble on while you listen.” Stiles paused and looked up at Coach.   
  
“Oh I’m not so old that I don’t know that there’s a lot going on in your life.  I mean I’m pretty sure that McCall’s a werewolf, Lahey’s a lizard like Whitmore, and I know Dunbar’s a wolf.” Stiles’ eyes went wide.   
  
“Shocked I know that?” Stiles nodded heavily.  “Contact lenses.” Coach popped them out revealing black eyes.  “Half fae on my dad’s side.” He put the contacts back in.  “I can see a lot of things, and I keep my ear to the ground to tell the council of any supernatural kids who need an eye kept on them.  So I know what happened, what really happened.  It’s why I’ve been going easy on you.” He touched the bruise and shook his head, going back to his desk and pulling out a container and tossing it to Stiles.  “Apply that once a day, for the next few days.  It’ll heal it away.  You’re not eating and it’s effecting your magic.  You’re over using your magic just to keep yourself from starving to death.”   
  
_Holy shit._   Stiles looked shocked.   
  
“And yes, I’m aware you guys can’t see Greenburg.  Greenburg died in 1987.  He’s been haunting the locker room since he died to a werewolf tearing out his throat since then.  I get that he’s not _real_ to you, but he also lets to tell me what he hears and sees in the locker room.  So I know about most of what you boys have gone through in the last couple years.”   
  
Stiles glanced out into the locker room and let the magic bleed into his eyes, where he suddenly realized there was a kid walking around with thick black curly hair who smiled and waved at him before walking off.   
  
“Careful, he figures out you can see him, you’ll never get rid of him.  He’s figured out how to make phone calls from the locker room… Nothing quite like a 2 am call from a spirit who _just wants to talk_.” Coach shook his head.  “Anyways.  I know you’re having a hard time of it.  And if you ever need me to come over and just chatter away, I’ll be there, okay?”  Stiles nodded and walked out of the room, feeling confused and slightly comforted.   
  
“What happened?” Jackson bit his lip.   
  
_Heavy dose of what the fuck…_ Stiles shrugged, even without not talking, he wasn’t sure he had words to describe what just happened.   
  
“I heard the part about you’re off the team and Scott’s taking you home.” Stiles nodded.  “But it got quite after that.  Anything I should know?” Jackson frowned; Stiles looked towards the Coach’s office and shook his head.  Naw, if he ever spoke again, maybe, but for now, this wasn’t something he felt was his secret to share.   
  
“Call me…” Stiles frowned.  “Fine, text me when you get home, okay?” Jackson put the thermos in Stiles’ hands again.  “And do try to at least sip on that, please?” Stiles looked down at it and sighed.  He nodded, anything to get him out of having to try to explain to Jackson that he wasn’t planning on putting anything in his body.   
  
“Stiles.” Scott’s voice was curt and tight as he stood in the doorway to the locker room with his arms crossed over one another.   
  
“of all the fucking nerve…” Jackson started towards Scott but Stiles put his hand out and held Jackson back and shook his head.  “Fine.  But text me?”   
  
Stiles nodded.   
  
“Okay.  Go before I have to punch him.”   
  
“I can hear you.” Scott glared.   
  
“And?” Jackson shrugged and walked away.   
  
“Get changed.  I’ll wait here.” Scott glared at Jackson as Stiles rolled his eyes and went back to his locker and stripped off his clothing before putting his street clothes back on and heading out, only for Jackson to clear his throat.   
  
_What now?_   He saw where Jackson was pointing and blushed going back for the ointment from Coach and the thermos from Jackson.  He nodded and headed out to the car with Scott behind him, before they got in the car and Scott started driving.   
  
_What’s wrong with his energy?_ Stiles frowned as he glanced at Scott, who’s jaw was clenched.  Stiles had the instinct to reach out and touch him but thought better of it.   
  
“I can’t believe you.” Scott finally started.   
  
_What?_ Stiles frowned.   
  
“I have to hear from Coach that you’re not fit to play?  That you’re not eating!” Scott grit his teeth.  “It’s bad enough about this not speaking shit, and I heard from Deaton that you’ve stopped practicing with the Druids.”   
  
_And the hedges._ Stiles nodded.   
  
“DON’T YOU FUCKING GET IT!” Scott yelled.   
  
Stiles frowned.   
  
“I need you to start eating.  I need you to start talking.  I need you to start using your magic better.  A lot of really important shit is on the line, and you’re fucking it up for all of us!”   
  
_Thanks.  No pressure or anything… sure…_   Stiles shook his head.   
  
“Do I need to start force feeding you food to make you eat?” Scott sighed heavily.   
  
_Only if you don’t want fingers._ Stiles gave him a look.   
  
“Don’t fucking look at me like that, just because you have a death wish, doesn’t mean I want my pack going down in flames because of you.” Scott glared.   
  
_But I don’t have a death wish.  You’re just too… whatever this is… to notice anything about me._   
  
“I just don’t get why you didn’t tell me!?” Scott sighed.   
  
_Probably because you’re never around._   Stiles leaned his head against the window looking outside as they went.  He was mentally checking out of this conversation, because it was turning into more of a lecture than anything else.   
  
“LISTEN TO ME?” Scott grabbed him and wrenched his neck to make him look at him.   
  
_You’d better let go of me._   Stiles put that in his eyes as he looked at Scott.   
  
“You will start behaving.”   
  
_Let. Me. Go._   Stiles let his magic flare a little, enough for Scott to feel his energy.   
  
“Don’t make me have to beat sense into you.” Scott growled at him.   
  
Stiles gripped Scott’s wrist and pulled it off of him, his magic making Scott let go.  Scott swerved and parked the car quickly, grabbing his hand.   
  
“THAT FUCKING HURT!” He lashed out smacking Stiles hard enough that his head went back and hit the glass of the side window.  Stiles turned and looked at him in fear, his lip bleeding from the impact.   
  
“Shit… Stiles…” Stiles frantically undid the lock on the car door and his belt and fell out of the car.  “STILES!” Scott came around the car and Stiles was in that panicked place again.  He lashed out for his magic and shoved Scott back against the car, almost rocking the car with the impact.   
  
“STILES!” Scott yelled and came back running at Stiles and he threw his hands up and Scott was frozen mid air.   
  
_Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…_ Stiles scampered into the house and closed the door behind him and panting as he slid to the floor.   
  
“Stiles…” Scott was at the door.   
  
_GO AWAY!_   Stiles let that flow out of his mind at Scott, hard enough that he could hear that Scott staggered back.   
  
“Stiles… I’m sorry… I…”   
  
Stiles curled up against the door, the fear radiating off of him as he struggled to control his breathing.  His mind going back to the first lessons in magic he’d had.  Lydia’s voice telling him to breath, that every time he breathed it was breathing in power and exhaling will.   
  
_You’re a powerful force of nature.  No one tells you what to do.  No one owns you.  And you take shit from no one._   Stiles stood up and put his hands at his side, the door opened up and he looked at Scott.   
  
“Sti-” He dropped to his knees barely able to breath before he flew back at the car with the passenger side opening and slamming into the driver’s seat before the car door slammed shut.  Stiles slammed his door shut and crumpled up on the floor.  He was there for a while, having sobbed himself to sleep.  He might have slept the whole night there if his phone hadn’t rang and gotten him to wake up.  Bleary he picked up the phone and looked at it.   
  
_Jackson > Are you okay?_   
  
Scott wouldn’t have told Jackson anything.  He looked at how dark it was outside.  Shit.   
  
_Stiles > Sorry, had a fight with Scott.  I ended up passing out on the floor sobbing._   
  
He wondered if he could move.  Trying to straighten out his legs he whence.  Definitely going to hurt to get up from this spot.   
  
_Jackson > He made you cry.  What did he do?_   
  
He was a dick to me.  Stiles sighed and typed.   
  
_Stiles > He said somethings. I got angry.  He grabbed my neck.  I sort of broke his hand… so he hit me._   
  
_Jackson > Where are you?_   
  
_Stiles > Front door._   
  
There was a knock on the door and Stiles frowned.  He whined in his throat as he got up and opened the door.  Jackson was standing there looking concerned as he scooped Stiles up and carried him upstairs.  Jackson didn’t say anything as he carried Stiles and his things upstairs to his room, noticing that the bed hadn’t been slept in, he glanced at the door down the hall.   
  
_Not tonight._   Stiles let the thought slip out so Jackson nodded and laid him down on his own bed, Stiles seemed to melt into it as he drifted in and out.  He’s almost gone to sleep believing Jackson had left but then Jackson was back with a warm cloth washing the dried blood off his face and cleaning him up before helping him undress.  He found his comfy sleep clothes and laid them out but shook his head when Stiles reached for them.  He’d left Stiles in his boxers and carried him to the bathroom where he’d drawn a bath.   
  
He looked away and helped Stiles undress and get in the tub and sat with his back to Stiles while he bathed in silence.  But oddly the air didn’t feel heavy with unsaid words, which was a first for Stiles since everything happened.  He quietly reached out and touched Jackson’s arm when he was done and ready to get out of the tub.  Jackson was careful not to look as he helped him out and dried him off, wrapping him in the towel before carrying him back to his bed to help dress him in his sleep clothes.  Stiles picked up his phone as he lay there.   
  
_Stiles > you didn’t need to do that._   
  
Jackson smiled at him.  “You dressed me when I first became a Kanima and was still freaking out.  You didn’t have to do that either.  But you did.”   
  
_Stiles > I also said we should have killed you._   
  
“Yeah…” Jackson blushed.  “I could hear you.” Stiles looked at him blankly.  “I never said anything because it made me cry.  And I kind of shut down and let the beast take over.  So when you said he made you cry I was already over here to check on why you hadn’t texted me.” Jackson sighed.   
  
_Stiles > Sorry._   
  
“It’s okay.  I know you’re not hungry.” He patted Stiles’ thigh.  “I’ll leave the thermos if you’re thirsty.  Please try it.”   
  
_Stiles >Okay._   
  
“And now like you actually mean it and you’re not blowing me off?” Jackson smiled.  Stiles had the good graces to blush at that and nod quietly before Jackson gave him a hug and said his goodbyes.  They texted on and off till Stiles finally passed out for the night.  It was the first night since he lost his father that he didn’t have nightmares or night terrors.  Stiles had no idea how much he’d needed that restful sleep.  But for the first time in a long time he felt contented and happy when he woke up in the morning.  Even allowing himself to forget about what was waiting for him outside his bedroom door, but as always that memory came crashing into his mind.  He looked at the clock and decided that he’d do some homework before waiting till after the weekend practice to get over with so he could finish cleaning out his locker and get his gear.  He’d drive himself this time, because he didn’t want to deal with Scott again.


	6. Milquetoast

Jackson was enjoying the feel of the water down his back.  Fuck… he hadn’t thought about what he was doing last night.  Seeing Stiles naked… fuck he’d gone home and had to jerk off a few times.  He couldn’t believe how turned on he was.  He hadn’t really grasped how much he felt for Stiles till last night.  Even between Lydia and the trials, it hadn’t entirely sunk into his mind.  And here he was in the shower wanting to touch himself again thinking about Stiles.   
  
_SLAM_   
  
Jackson shut the water off and quickly dried off and grabbed his shorts and snuck through the locker room till he was standing beside Stiles.  Stiles was panting and struggling to stay upright as he finished cleaning out his locker.  God... he looked almost skeletal thin.  And Jackson could smell that he hadn’t drank any of the thermos.  This couldn’t go on.  Fuck it.   
  
Not even thinking, Jackson picked Stiles up and sat down and put Stiles so that he was across his lap and Stiles frowned at him before his head was moved and he pressed Stiles’ lips to his nipple and took his jaw in his hand and began to move it around.  Between the changes Jackson had made to his own body and the way he had Stiles held, it didn’t take long for him to begin to lactate into his mouth.  Stiles bucked and tried to fight him, but he was too weak so he sat there with his weak hands trying feebly push Jackson away.  Stiles was starting to relax though.   
  
The more he drank, the more relaxed he became.  Jackson had agonized over what to do with his nipples and tits.  How to change the milk he could make himself produce with the tablet’s help, into something that could meet all of Stiles’ dietary requirements.   
  
What he hadn’t given thought to was how a body deprived of everything it needed to survive running purely on magic would react to having that stress lifted even a little bit.  Coupled with the sheer eroticism of their close contact, skin on skin, and Stiles’ latched mouth on his swollen nipple, Jackson slowly realized that the hard feeling on his hip was Stiles’ arousal.  Smiling to himself he realized he liked that, the feeling of Stiles hard against him, his body responding to the situation as he began to suckle harder.  Stiles’ arms coming snaking around Jackson’s torso.  His better grasp being used as he pulled himself tighter against Jackson’s body as he suckled harder at the teat in his mouth.   
  
Jackson could smell how aroused and how long it’s been since Stiles had gotten off.  Weeks of stored up and pent up lust boiling over now that his body had the energy to do something about it finally.  Jackson smirked to himself, enjoying the heady scent of Stiles’ arousal as it flooded his senses.  He reached down between them and took a hold of Stiles through his jeans.   
  
“Someone’s happy to be fed.” Jackson grinned and he got the sense from the indignant sound Stiles made around his nipple that he didn’t appreciate the turn of phrase.  “Sorry.” Jackson cupped the back of Stiles’ head holding him to him, not that it was needed.   
  
“Fuck…” Jackson moaned, taking a firmer grasp on Stiles through his pants, an appreciative sound letting Jackson know he was on the right path.  “Do you want…” A nod was all he got.  “Okay.”   
  
Jackson began to move his hand slowly at first, keeping constant pressure as he worked up the lengthy shaft.  He was working Stiles over slowly, making him make needy whimpers around the nipple that he was abusing, nibbling on it making Jackson’s breath catch in his throat as he sat there, half trapped under Stiles and fully in rapturous joy from Stiles’ mouth.  His mind going to Stiles’ mouth on other more needy parts of his anatomy, but he was suddenly glad that he’d set his body to become aroused from the milking.   
  
“F…fuck…” Stiles was lavishing the nipple, he looked up into Jackson’s eyes and cast his eye on the other nipple and back to Jackson’s face.   
  
“They both do…” Jackson nodded, guessing at Stiles’ unsaid question.  Stiles nodded and moves over to the neglected nipple and latched on.  His eyes rolling back as he moaned around the swollen leaking bud, Jackson’s hand stuttered on Stiles’ cock before he began to speed up again.  There was some sense of urgency to them now.  He wasn’t sure what this was, if this was a onetime thing or if this meant more, but he knew he needed to work Stiles over now.  Stiles moaned around the nipple.   
  
Fuck… Jackson could smell how much he wanted this, how much he needed this.  And something in the both of them felt right as they worked each other over.  Stiles had to feel how hard Jackson was in his thin shorts as Stiles wriggled against him.  But Jackson was more focused on Stiles and the way his cock was swelling.  He was close.  Too close… too…fuck it.  Jackson doubled down his speed as Stiles went rigid and began to shoot his load not only in his pants but through them, soaking over Jackson’s hand and Jackson’s shorts as well.  Jackson was so close that when Stiles bit down hard on his nipple he came, the thin material might as well not even be there as Jackson came, coating both himself and Stiles in his load.   
  
“Fuck.” Jackson moved them so he could lay back on the narrow bench and pull Stiles to lay down with him.  Stiles let go of the nipple in his mouth as he clung to Jackson, he hadn’t felt anything that powerful since before his dad died.  He hadn’t realized he hadn’t been getting off.  It was just a part of him that had shut down in the period of him slowly shutting down.  He realized his magic felt better too.  He was aware of more in the room suddenly.   
  
_What was that…?_ Stiles looked up at Jackson.   
  
“I’ll explain later.”   
  
_That’s what’s in the thermos… isn’t it?_   
  
“Yeah.”   
  
_Fuck.  I should have drank that._ Stiles lay there thinking, his mind moving faster now.   
  
“Told you.” Jackson smiled.   
  
_No one likes a I told you so._   
  
“I know.  I just… it’s hard not to.” Jackson chuckled.   
  
_I don’t have a change of clothes…_ Stiles sighed, Jackson looked down at the splash of cum on the side of his face.   
  
“Strip.”   
  
_Excuse me?_   
  
“Just take your clothes off.” Jackson rolled his eyes and slowly moved out from under Stiles to slip his shorts off, gathering Stiles’ clothes and taking them to the locker room laundry and setting them to wash while he came back and took Stiles’ hand.  It didn’t go unnoticed that he was able to stand under his own power now, and Jackson walked him to the shower and started the water again.  He started soaping up Stiles’ hair.   
  
_I can wash myself._   
  
“And you can stand there and let me take care of you too.”   
  
_You don’t need…_   
  
“Ssh.” Jackson put his finger to Stiles’ lips.  “I’ve got this.”   
  
_Ok._   Stiles relaxed into the touch and let Jackson take care of him.  Lathering up his hair and washing the cum out of it, washing his body and cleaning him as he leaned in close, the heat of Jackson’s body a solid unbroken line against his back.  Stiles blushed as he felt himself growing hard again.  Jackson didn’t say anything, didn’t tease him, didn’t berate him for being horny again, he just took Stiles’ naked cock in his hand and jerked him off to a mind blowing orgasm.  Before he finished cleaning Stiles off and dried him off.   
  
“Can you see to putting our clothes in the drier while I finish up?” Jackson smiled, blushing slightly as Stiles turned and looked at him, drinking in his naked body with an appreciative stare.   
  
_Nice._   Stiles licked his lips before walking away.  Leaving Jackson to quickly slip back in the shower.  He speedily grabbed a hold of his cock, rubbing another orgasm out of his own abused cock and panting as he hunched his shoulders and leaned against the shower wall before he heard the clapping.  Jackson turned around quickly and looked embarrassed for a split second as Stiles stood there clapping.   
  
“you weren’t supposed to see that.” He blushed.   
  
_Hence why I hurried with shifting the clothes over to the drier._ Stiles smiled; a towel around his waist.   
  
“thanks.” Jackson blushed, walking out and taking the towel that Stiles offered and drying off, acutely aware that he had an audience.  He finished, facing Stiles as he slowly wrapped the towel around himself.   
  
_It’s hard not to jump you right now._   
  
“You too.”   
  
_Fuck…_   
  
“That too.” Jackson nodded.  He felt drawn to Stiles, all he wanted to do was to hold him down and mount him right now.  The need was almost entirely swallowing his mind.  He was starting to move towards Stiles when the drier buzzed.   
  
_Saved by the bell._   Stiles smiled before he ducked out quickly, much too quickly for someone who less than an hour ago couldn’t stand on his own.  But Jackson noticed the color and fullness of his body seemed to have come back a little from that one feeding.  Stiles came back a little while later and handed his shorts to him.  _What?_   
  
“Have you looked at yourself in a mirror?”   
  
_Not recently…_   
  
“Go look.” Jackson motioned to the mirrors and Stiles shrugged and trudged over to the mirrors and gasped.   
  
_Fuck… all I did was suck on your nipples, how did I heal this much!?!_   
  
“I couldn’t let you waste away.” Jackson walked up behind him, kissing the side of his neck as he undid the towel and let it fall to the floor.  His own towel joining Stiles’ on the floor.  “I couldn’t take how much it hurt my heart to see you hurting like that.”   
  
_Jackson…_   
  
“I…” He stopped, they both looked to the side as they heard a growl.  They turned and noticed Scott standing in the locker room door, eyes red and growling at them.   
  
“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HIM!” Scott roared.   
  
“Scott…” Jackson put up his arms.   
  
“I SAID!” Scott crouched.  “GET THE **FUCK** AWAY FROM HIM!” He pouched up, digging his claws into Jackson’s sides as he claws pierced his flesh.  Blood pouring down his sides as he pulled away, kicking Scott in the chest to break them apart and panting as he winced, reaching out and touching his wounds before he flung his claws out and coated the wounds with the venom to seal them for now.  Loosing blood in a fight was never a good way to start out.   
  
“That.  That one you get for free.” Jackson growled.   
  
“SHUT UP!” Scott rushed at him again and Jackson jumped over him, his tail forming as his ass was alight with the inner flames that changed his human flesh into Kanima scales.  He smacked Scott in the face as he landed gracefully over him, crouched down as his transformation began to spread.  Scott fully in his beta form as he growled at Jackson.   
  
“What’s the matter Scotty, getting slow in your alphahood?” Jackson taunted, baring his own fangs and claws at Scott as his eyes went reptilian.   
  
“YOU FUCKING BASTARD!” He lunged at Jackson, ducking and dodging before he slashed Jackson’s face.  “YOU FUCKING PERVERTED PIECE OF TRASH!”   
  
What?  Jackson frowned at him as he put his claws up.   
  
“YOU WERE RAPING HIM!”   
  
“NO I WASN’T!” Jackson roared back.   
  
“How do you explain his being naked than?” Scott growled out.   
  
“We were changing after a shower.”   
  
“HE SHOULDN’T BE NAKED AROUND YOU!?”   
  
“Why no?” Jackson held Scott back before the alpha bit into his forearm.  “FUCK!” He shoved Scott away, knocking him onto a bench.   
  
“Because, he’s broken.  He can’t choose for himself!  Any sex with him like this would be rape, because he’s not all there!” Scott yelled, clearly thinking he was fully in the right here as he gestured to Stiles who was standing there with a look of confusion on his face.  “SEE!?” He gestured harder.   
  
_Oh this isn’t a ‘oh poor me I’m so out of it I let a hot guy touch me’ face, this is a ‘my best friend’s a moron and fucking clueless that I might actually LIKE said hot guy touching me’ face._   Stiles put his hands on his hips.   
  
“WH…what?” Scott deflated.   
  
_Oh you damn well heard me._   Stiles stormed over to his clothes and started dressing.   
  
“You’re talking again… with your mind?”   
  
_You kind of made a big deal about it when you hit me._   Stiles’ mental voice was cold.   
  
“Stiles…” Scott stopped as Jackson’s fist connected with his face.  Jackson panted as he sat there crouched and panting.  “What the fuck!”   
  
“You hit him.  He bled.  He spent the night crying himself to sleep before _I_ made sure he was okay.  You fucking idiot.”   
  
“He wouldn’t let me in the house!?!” Scott tended to his split lip.   
  
“Would you have let someone who hit you in your house?”   
  
“no…”   
  
“There you go.”   
  
“But I’m in charge of his health.”   
  
_Maybe you shouldn’t be._   Stiles frowned as the other too gaped at him.   
  
“You don’t mean that…” Scott finally said; his human form back as he stood there.   
  
“Maybe he does.” Jackson turned back to human, his wounds mostly healed.   
  
_I think I might._   Stiles could see the pain written on Scott’s face as he thought those words at him.  But he hadn’t felt that free in weeks as he stood there.   
  
“Stiles…” Scott looked broken and confused at that.   
  
_No.  As soon as I’m able I’m going to talk to the council about this._   Stiles started to lift his bag and collapsed on the bench, panting.   
  
“STILES!” Jackson ran but Scott blocked him.   
  
“He’s still my charge.” Scott walked over and crouched down to look Stiles in the eyes.  “Let me take you home.”  Stiles nodded, looking up at Jackson with eyes that said much to him but even Jackson could see the bit of sex and magic had eaten away at the health he’d regained from the feeding.  And they both knew they couldn’t feed Stiles again with Scott there.


	7. Blood is Thinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott losses his temper and drives Stiles into a bit of a spiral. And helps Stiles make up his mind about a few things.

“I still don’t think you had any business having sex with him.” Scott glared at Jackson.   
  
“So?”   
  
“SO?!” Scott rounded on him.  “How fucking dense are you!?”   
  
“I could ask the same of you.” Jackson stepped into Scott’s space.  “He’s already said that he is going to take up his custodial care up with the council, do you really want to piss either of us off so we have to bring up the fact that you hit him when you didn’t like what he said or did?”   
  
“I…”   
  
“I don’t care.”   
  
“Are you read yet?” Scott shoved passed Jackson and glared at Stiles.   
  
_Yeah…_ Stiles nodded as his inner voice got quiet and he walked over to Jackson, who was still very much naked and snuggles into him.  _I’ll text._   
  
“Okay.” Jackson smiled, loving how much that little action pissed Scott off, it was clear on his face as Stiles shook his head.  Stiles walked a couple steps and put his bags into Scott’s arm as they walked out to the jeep.   
  
“Are you planning on driving?” Stiles shook his head, taking the bags and putting them in the back before tossing the keys to Scott.  “Seriously.”   
  
_Tired._   Stiles shrugged.   
  
“The fight?” Scott’s voice went low.   
  
_Too much magic and too much stress._   Stiles got in and buckled up as he curled up in the seat.   
  
“What gave you the strength at all… I haven’t seen that in you in weeks….”   
  
_You wouldn’t understand._   Stiles sounded sleepy even in his own head.   
  
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Scott glared.  Stiles gave him a look.  “I get that you’re tired, but explain it to me.  What gave you that strength?”   
  
_Jackson._ Scott growled.  _What?_   
  
“How is he able to help you when I can’t?”   
  
_Dunno.  I just know he can.  And he is._   
  
“I still think he’s trying to use you to get to me.”   
  
_Seriously?_   Stiles rolled his eyes and held his head because of how much it hurt.   
  
“I mean it. He’s always had it in for me.  Then he got the bite and he became _this_ and there are days I wish we had killed him.” Scott grumbled.   
  
_Not everything requires murder._ Stiles’ voice was bitter.   
  
“I… I’m sorry.” Scott sighed as he listened to Stiles’ heart beat.   
  
_I don’t know that I’m ever going to forgive you._   Stiles looked out the window.  _I close my eyes and it’s all I see.  Over and over again.  And endless loop.  Maybe that’s why you can’t help me.  Maybe Jackson just knows what it’s like to be an orphan and he’s helping me deal with it?_   
  
“And the sex?”   
  
_You fucked Alison and went googoo gawgaw over her that we couldn’t talk sense to you about anything.  So you’ll forgive me if I don’t give two shits about what you have to say about who I do or do not have sex with.  I think you lost that right when you made me pass sexy messages between you and your girlfriend because her parents were more than a little against the idea of little Scott going anywhere near her._   Stiles looked squarely at Scott.   
  
“yeah…” Scott blushed.   
  
_And when sleeping with him helps me deal and not cry myself to sleep… is it so bad?_   
  
“Maybe not.” Scott conceded.  “But why’s it got to be Jackson!?” He lamented.   
  
_The heart wants what the heart wants._   
  
“The heart?”   
  
_Or heart shaped parts of my body._   Stiles shrugged with a weak smile.   
  
“Fine… we’ll put that on the list of things I don’t want to know.” Scott shuttered.   
  
_Then don’t ask questions._   Stiles smiled, enjoying having the upper hand as he slipped an image of Jackson bathing him in the shower into Scott’s mind.   
  
“FUCK!” Scott swerved.  “The fuck was that for?!?” Scott glared at Stiles.   
  
_You comment on my sex life again, and you’ll know what it’s like to kiss him and want to kiss him._ Stiles looked sharply at him.   
  
“Fine.  I’ll leave it alone. “Scott grumbled.   
  
_Good._   Stiles laid his head against the window and let his body go limp.  He was so tired.  He needed to get home and get to bed.  He wasn’t entirely sure if he was falling asleep or if he’d actually sleep, but he slowly started to come around as he realized they were parked outside his house.  _Whahuh?_   He glanced around realizing the stuff was out of the car.   
  
“I sat it by the side of the car so I could carry it in if you let me.”   
  
_Oh?  Okay…_   
  
“Stiles.”   
  
_Yeah?_   
  
“Are you really going to request to leave my pack?” Scott was looking at his hands on the stirring wheel.   
  
_Yes._   Stiles sighed as he sat back in the chair and looked at the ceiling.   
  
“Why?”   
  
_Scott.  I watched you kill my dad._   
  
“I…”   
  
_I know you said he asked you to.  I know you want me to understand and you want me to accept it and forgive you.  And I don’t know if I can._   
  
“oh.”   
  
_Plus you grabbed me when you felt you were being disrespected and didn’t listen when I wanted you to let go, so I made you and you hit me.  That is never going to be okay.  You made me see you as a predator hunting me.  And I attacked back._   
  
“Yeah…”   
  
_And that on top of what happened with my dad… I think we can agree that it’s not working out with you in charge._   
  
“I guess.”   
  
_I think maybe I need to go away for a bit._   
  
“Can we still be friends?” Scott looked up.   
  
_I think we can try._   Stiles gave a yawn.   
  
“Let me carry things in?”   
  
_Sure._   Stiles gave a weak smile and got out of the car and walked towards the house.   
  


***

  
  
Scott left eventually after making sure things were taken up and put away.  Stiles had seen him out and walked into his room feeling drained than he had in his entire life.  He lay there thinking about how he wished he had more time to nurse on Jackson’s nipples again before they’d come home.  He sighed to himself and as he lay there he noticed the thermos.   
  
_Oh…_   Stiles blushed and opened the thermos and poured some of the liquid into a cup and sipped it.  _Not bad…_   He felt stronger as he drank it.  He hadn’t felt this good since he drank directly from the teat.  He licked his lips and blushed as he looked down realizing his cock was quickly filling out again.   
  
_Fuck._   He blushed.  Weeks of not taking himself in hand was starting to build up.  Even with all the times he’d gotten off today with Jackson.  His mind flashing to Jackson naked.  _Yeah… definitely into that…_ Stiles squeezed his crotch.  He was going to have to jerk off.  He sipped more of the liquid from the thermos and felt himself throb harder.  Was it just that he hadn’t gotten off all that much, or was this liquid triggering boners?  How would that work…?  Stiles’ mind was derailed again as he thought about Jackson’s hands on his body and he whimpered as he began to undress.  His naked torso… his… Stiles frowned as he looked at his bag that he’d caught a glimpse of while undressing.   
  
He walked over naked and pulled Jackson’s shirt out of his bag.  Fuck… Jackson had to have stuck this in his bag before he left… when did he have that kind of time?  Stiles couldn’t come up with an answer for that.  Stiles laid it out on his bed and took a photo of it before sending it to Jackson.   
  
_Jackson > You found that huh?_   
  
_Stiles > Yeah._  {picture attached}  Stiles watched as the icon indicated that Jackson was looking at the picture Stiles had just taken, a downward angle on his hard cock.   
  
_Jackson > Someone’s happy._   
  
_Stiles > I drank more of the stuff in the thermos._   
  
_Jackson > Nice…_  {picture attached}  Stiles clicked on it and was instant presented with a full color photo of Jackson’s hard cock pulled out of the fly of his jeans.  Fuck.   
  
_Stiles > Fuck…_   
  
_Jackson > Problems?_   
  
_Stiles > I want to jerk off now._   
  
_Jackson > Then do it._   
  
_Stiles > But you’ll know I’m doing it._   
  
_Jackson > So?  I’m playing with myself looking at the picture of your cock._   
  
_Stiles > Really?_  That made Stiles throb with need.  The fact that Jackson was touching himself and thinking about him made him feel… needed, wanted… desired.   
  
_Jackson: Yes._ {video attached}  Stiles clicked on it and what popped up was a video of what was clearly Jackson’s face.   
  
“You do this to me.” He turned the camera around and pointed it on his hard cock and started stroking it.  “Fuck… I wish you were here… I wish I was there… I wish I could watch you… touch you… fuck… you are so fucking hot…” Jackson moaned as he stroked himself for a few minutes before the video stopped   _FUCK…_   
  
_Stiles > Well fuck me… I’m going to be watching that a lot._   
  
_Jackson > You liked it? ;)_   
  
_Stiles > Hell yes!  Fuck do you know how fucking HOT you are?!_  Stiles was watching the video again as he began to settle on the bed as he took himself in hand.   
  
_Jackson > Says the hot one._   
  
_Stiles > Right… the 98 lbs or less starving guy’s hot._  Stiles sighed.   
  
_Jackson > If you were here right now, I’d have my mouth on your tip, licking around the that swollen crown till I made you cry out in need, and thread your fingers into my hair and fuck up into my throat…_   
  
Stiles blushed furiously as he stroked his cock.   
  
_Stiles > You have no idea what you’re doing to me…_ He snapped a picture of his face.   
  
_Stiles > You’ve got me blushing._  {picture attached}   
  
_Jackson > FUCK_  The phone rang and Stiles answered it.   
  
“I know you probably can’t send your thoughts through here.”   
  
_Can I?_   Stiles tried but Jackson didn’t say anything.  _Guess not…_   
  
“I just want to hear you moan.  I know you can’t talk.  But fuck… I’m picturing you laying there naked touching yourself…” Fuck the voice that was speaking to him that went right to his cock as Stiles stroked himself.  His breathy moans and the slick sound of flesh on flesh with what little lube Stiles made himself between his hand and his cock were all the sounds that Jackson’s enhanced hearing.   
  
“Fuck… you sound like you’re going at it.”   
  
_I am… fuck… almost there…_   
  
“You’re breathing’s hitching… your heart rate… you’re going to cum… Shoot that load… I want a picture of it afterwards.  I want to see you cum…” Stiles didn’t think about it, he turned on the face time setting and set the camera to the back side of his phone and pointed it with one hand at his cock.   
  
“OH FUCK!” Jackson moaned as he loudly started jerking off faster.  “Fuck yeah… fuck beat that fucking meat… Fuck.” His breathing getting as labored as Stiles as he stroked his cock.  Fuck they were going to go together… he was sure of it.  Stiles arched his back as he tried to hang on for dear life as he came, sure that he was on camera, but as he saw white hot boiling pleasure, he didn’t notice when he sprayed his load on the camera itself.   
  
“FUCK!” Jackson moaned.

**Author's Note:**

> Also at this point 15/17 chapters is written, they'll be uploaded on a bi-weekly basis.
> 
> Please contact me on tumblr @ Notsalony about commissions.


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